


after the fall

by thankyouforexisting



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Bonding, Crying, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Vomiting, budding friendship, post-GPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 15:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10516710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thankyouforexisting/pseuds/thankyouforexisting
Summary: JJ isn't the first person to fall apart because of his anxiety.//“I just - I just heard something, and I thought maybe you needed some help?” Yuuri sounds like he’s a bit embarrassed, but he pulls through. “I’ve, uh, I’ve done my share of crying in bathroom stalls before, so don’t worry, I won’t judge.”He doesn’t say anything, terrified. His knuckles are white against the porcelain. Yuuri can’t see him like this. Yuuri beat him. Yuuri broke a world record.“If - I mean, if you want me to leave, that’s alright.” God, he’s still going. “But I won’t say anything, I swear. And Victor always makes me carry tissues and disinfectant cause he’s worried Yuri will get a cold, so I’m really good at clean up.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vnikiforov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vnikiforov/gifts).



> i hate myself this is probably gonna be deleted on april 2nd  
> blame @NICHOLASonICE and @yuri_noice and @yuriodavai

It starts after the Grand Prix Final.

 

JJ smiles for the cameras,ignoring the flashes darkening his vision and making his head swim. He waves at the crowds, and holds his flag up proudly.  Interviewers come up to him, as they often do, only this time they smile sympathetically instead of joyously. Their questions are meticulously worded, their words overly congratulatory.

 

“You fought hard,” they say. “It was admirable.”

 

There is a medal on his chest. But it is not the medal he came here for. It is not the medal he dreamed of.

 

JJ might have made it to the podium, but he shattered into a thousand pieces on the ice, broken by violent shards and torn apart until his jumps were merciless falls. He had to be cheered into performing his worst this season by the people he’d promised to awe.

 

Isabella wraps her arms around him once the award ceremony is over. She smells like the expensive cologne he bought her a few weeks ago, something he’d heard was popular amongst girls here in Barcelona. “And early wedding gift,” he’d called it, grinning.

 

“You were amazing,” she whispers, pressing their chests together and cradling his neck with her hand. “You were my king.”

 

When she pulls away, her eyes are fiery, and she smiles. “I guess we’ll just have to wait a little more until we get married, huh?” She winks. “Can’t wait to see you shine again.”

 

JJ nods, forcing himself to grin back at her. “Of course, darling! This is but an unfortunate mistake.” He twirls his wrists in explanation, sighing. “Plisetsky just has a marvelous case of beginner's luck, my my.”

 

His fiancée laughs, softly caressing his cheek. “Go get changed, will you?”

 

…

 

The first thing he does when he gets to the toilets is run into a stall, lock the door behind him, and throw up.

 

JJ  _ hates _ vomiting. It’s probably one of the worst experiences he’s ever gone through in his life, yet it’s so closely linked to such a long period of it. He can’t stand the feeling of losing control, panics immediately when his body overpowers him. There’s an inevitable helplessness in the moment his breath cuts off, leaving him vulnerable to absolutely everything, in the way he heats up in alarm. His heartbeat rises sky-high, pulses in his ears, and separates him from the rest of the world.

 

He hasn’t vomited in years

 

JJ grasps the sides of the white toilet with a bone-crushing grip, panting heavily. It’s not recommendable to eat much before a competition, so most of it is just disgusting fluids and the sandwich he had earlier. Lovely. Wrinkling his nose, he grabs at the toilet paper to his right, shuddering. God, this is disgusting. He can’t  _ believe _ this is happening again, after being in control for almost all his professional career. JJ told himself this wouldn’t be a problem anymore, not after the body building and the charity events. He is so fucking  _ pathetic _ .

 

It’s as he’s wiping his face, wincing at the feel of it, that someone knocks on the stall door, hesitant.

 

“Hey,” Yuuri Katsuki’s voice comes from outside, quiet but worried. “Are you alright?”

 

JJ freezes.

 

“I just - I just heard something, and I thought maybe you needed some help?” Yuuri sounds like he’s a bit embarrassed, but he pulls through. “I’ve, uh, I’ve done my share of crying in bathroom stalls before, so don’t worry, I won’t judge.”

 

He doesn’t say anything, terrified. His knuckles are white against the porcelain. Yuuri can’t see him like this. Yuuri  _ beat _ him. Yuuri broke a  _ world record _ . 

 

“If - I mean, if you want me to leave, that’s alright.” God, he’s still going. “But I won’t say anything, I swear. And Victor always makes me carry tissues and disinfectant cause he’s worried Yuri will get a cold, so I’m really good at clean up.”

 

Are these two for real. Sometimes, JJ wonders if Yuri Plisetsky (who won  _ gold _ , who’s taking gold  _ home _ , who’s  _ fifteen _ and  _ beat _ him) has any parents, or do both skaters follow him around, worrying and fretting.

 

“Uh, this is a bit awkward,” Yuuri mumbles. JJ hears the sound of his shoes shuffling against the tiled floor, a nervous tell. “There’s nobody else here, by the way. If you’re eh, if you’re scared.”

 

JJ takes a deep, shuddery breath, pressing his forehead against the toilet.  _ Ugh. _ His mouth and nose are burning, and he wants nothing more than to close his eyes and disappear, to stop thinking. He doesn’t want to be with Isabella or his parents, who’ll all pretend to be proud but can’t help but wish more for him. He just wants to  _ leave _ .

 

But before he starts shouting, JJ remembers the articles from last year, announcing Yuuri Katsuki’s abysmal failure. Can’t help but flash back to the times when Yuuri messed up at qualifiers, destroying programs with faltering steps and refusing to land a single jump.

 

Slowly, wondering what the  _ fuck _ he’s doing, JJ opens the stall door.

 

Yuuri says, “Oh, thank God.”

 

He’s wearing his training clothes, a black-and-white tracksuit with yellow stripes, the Japanese flag displayed where his heart is located. Yuuri’s hair is still all done, rigid in a way that can only mean litres and litres of hairspray, and his face is flushed from the effort.

 

His eyes are kind.

 

“Hey, JJ,” he says, awkwardly holding out a box of tissues. On automatic, he grabs them, blinking at him. “Um, wow, sorry. D-do you want me to call Isabella?”

 

“No!” JJ yells, sudden and frightened, taking a step forward to put his arms on Yuuri’s shoulders. The skater looks up at him, startled, but doesn’t back away. “Please...don’t.”

 

“Er, alright.” Yuuri disentangles himself from JJ’s hold, smiling weakly. “You look a little puffy. Want me to help you?”

 

“Um.” Help with what? He doesn’t need help to clean his  _ face _ , for Christ’s sake.

 

“Phichit used to do this for a me a lot,” Yuuri Katsuki continues, as if ignoring the completely befuddled glance JJ is shooting at him. He takes him by the hand and directs him to the sink. “Just, uh, just sit up and I can wash you a bit better.”

 

“I can do it myself,” JJ says. Or, at least, he means to say. But the words don’t quite come out. He’s just staring, dumbfounded. There’s a spark of glitter from his costume on Yuuri’s cheek, and it’s all he can focus his eyes on. Almost without realizing it, he hops onto the counter where the sinks are, his legs swinging in the air.

 

Yuuri’s smile brightens. “That’s it, just right. I’m sorry that I’m so useless, but this is the first time  _ I _ ’m not the one having a hard time.” He suddenly turns his head, eyes wide with horror. “I m-mean, not that it’s bad that you’re having a hard time or anything! I’m just very used to dealing bad with pressure.” Yuuri pulls at the edge of his tracksuit jacket, averting his gaze, and takes one of the tissues.

 

“Oh,” JJ answers, because there’s something wrong with him. “I...This is the first time it’s happened in some time, for me. I am usually perfect.” He swallows. “I am  _ always _ outstanding.”

 

“Well, as Yurio likes to say.” Yuuri winks, bright and playful. “Shit happens.” 

 

He moistens the tissue with a bit of water from the sink, and holds it up, carefully applying the cold tissue to JJ’s cheek. Yuuri murmurs at him to close his eyes, and JJ obeys without thinking, shivering when the refreshing texture washes away the tears from vomiting. JJ doesn’t ask for it, but Yuuri wipes his mouth and cheeks, too.

 

If he were to think about it, JJ might have felt indignant to be in this situation; humiliated, even. He is not a  _ child _ to be taken care of. He’s a  _ king _ .  _ He _ ’s left skaters crying. But Yuuri is so gentle…

 

He speaks, while he cleans away the traces of his breakdown, just mindless chatter in a reassuring, accented English that’s slightly more accurate than most skaters’.

 

“...Otabek has been trying to get out of his suit for ten minutes now, and I think Lilia ran in there with scissors when Yurio started to call for an extraction team...I think I left the lights on in the hotel, do you think they charge you for that? They don’t, do they?... It gets dark so late in Barcelona, you can still see the Sun...My sister’s been trying to call me, but the reception is  _ terrible _ ...Oh, I love your haircut so much, my hair is always a mess…”

 

“There you go,” Yuuri says, finally putting the wet tissue away and throwing it in the small trashcan. He gives him a pat on the shoulder, smiling. “You should probably drink some water and rest a lot tonight. Do you know any breathing exercises?”

 

“...breathing exercises?” 

 

“For anxiety,” Yuuri clarifies, as if that’s supposed to help JJ understand. He seems to notice that he has no idea what he’s talking about, because Yuuri frowns, crossing his arms over his chest, and moves a little closer. He’s standing between his legs, JJ propped up on the counter. Yuuri’s warm. “When you get anxious, you really need a way to calm down.”

 

“I...I don’t have those,” JJ mutters, as honest as he can be. “I don’t  _ need _ them, I’m just fine.”

 

Yuuri winces, glancing at the slight wet spot on his training suit where he cleaned a little vomit. “They always help,” he murmurs, putting his hand on JJ’s shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. Has he always been this confident? The Yuuri JJ remembers could barely get a word in during a conversation unless he was blackout drunk. “Just… um, wait.”

 

He rummages in his pocket, taking out a small notebook, and scribbles on it for a few seconds, biting his lower lip in concentration. His tongue peeks out a little, rosy pink. It’s...cute. Once he’s done, he nods and hands it over to JJ.

 

A phone number.

 

“Call me, okay?” Yuuri asks, almost pleading. “If you need  _ anything _ .”

 

“I don’t  need -”

 

“If you need anything,” Yuuri repeats firmly, closing his hand over JJ’s on his thigh.

 

“...Alright,” JJ whispers, quiet.

 

“I have to go now, but text me when you get home, please.” Yuuri moves away, putting some space between them. JJ feels like he can breathe again. Just as he’s turning the door handle, twitching a little, he turns around and tells him, voice steady,  “Congratulations on your medal, JJ. It’s incredible.”

 

For the first time that evening, JJ feels that those words are really, truly sincere.  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i guess you can comment? kudos literally give me life force


End file.
